Deception
by ilovenaley
Summary: Sometimes, appearances can be deceiving. AU, Naley.
1. Chapter 1

**AN – What can I say, life has been absolutely crazy.**

**I know this isn't NSN, TAM or KTR, but this crazy idea came to me today, suddenly and unexpectedly. So before I lost my muse, I wrote it out. And this is what I have so far. I'm hoping that by getting this down, I'll find it easier to update my other stories.**

**Please note the M rating on this story... it'll be required very soon... and if things go as I plan, it'll be more warranted than in any of my other stories. You have been warned!**

**Disclaimer: OTH is not mine.**

**Thanks to Anniiyy and Kristen for their help! :o)**

**Enjoy!**

**Chapter One**

I scrape my hair back from my face as I rush through the bright, white corridor, muttering expletives under my breath because I know that despite my best efforts to get to work on time, I'm late.

In my haste, I realise that I don't even have a hair band on my wrist to tie my hair up with. I sigh heavily as I remove one of my hands from my long, brown hair, the other staying on my head so I can hold my hair up in a ponytail while I search my pockets for a hair tie.

"Come on…" I mutter to myself. I growl in frustration when I realise that there isn't one in my left pocket, and so I switch hands and search my right. I want to shout out my relief when my fingers curl around the hair tie I knew I had on me somewhere. I wriggle it onto my wrist, thankful that despite my disorganised state, I am still… well, organised.

Passing through the door, I enter the dimly lit restaurant in a rush, and as I scan the vast, opulent room I halt my movement when I see Victoria standing by the main counter. I gulp, drop my hand from my hair and pull the other out of my pocket as I quickly dart my eyes from left to right, wondering how I can escape the reprimand I know I'll receive if she notices that I'm late.

She isn't supposed to be here tonight. But then again, she's never supposed to be here, yet somehow she always is. Especially if I'm late. I briefly wonder if she has some kind of 'Haley Radar', and can sense when I'm running late for my shift.

Biting down on my lip, I scurry back against the wall, hoping that somehow I'll be able to melt into it so she won't notice me. When my back hits the plaster, I realise that I can't just melt into it, and so surreptitiously I begin to sidestep my way towards the tables, hoping that I'll be able to slip into my shift and find a customer who needs me to take an order or something.

I'm highly aware of how ridiculous I look, skirting around the outskirts of the restaurant as I am, but I'm saving my skin, literally. Victoria… or Vicious Vic, VV for short, as I like to call her, though only in my head – I do want to wake up tomorrow morning, thank you very much – officially takes the title for the worst boss ever. Of this I am absolutely certain. The woman is pure evil, and I don't think she has a pleasant bone in her body. Unless, of course, her kindness is required to boost the reputation of the business. And according to her, treating her staff with respect does not bode well for the business, which is totally warped thinking.

I keep my eyes trained on her as I continue to sidestep my way towards the tables. I pick up a jug of water from the small counter I pass as I stealthily keep moving towards my intended destination, the actual restaurant floor. I can see the threshold out of the corner of my eye; it's about ten or so steps away from where I am now. As soon as I pass it, I'll be so damn proud of myself, though I know I must keep my emotions in check. Punching the air and 'whooping' will not allow me to continue to be inconspicuous, in fact, it would do the complete opposite, which will mean I get fired will then have to vacate my lowly studio and borrow a cardboard box from the trash outside to sleep on for the rest of time.

I'm vaguely aware of a strange noise reverberating around the area I'm moving in, but all my concentration is required to ensure that VV doesn't see me, so I block it out. I continue with my progressive steps and calculate that I must only be about three or so strides away from being in the clear. I'm not usually this sly, in fact, I'm actually rather a klutz, and so I'm amazed at my progress so far. Maybe I am becoming more agile as I get older...

The strange noise gets noticeably louder and it irritates me. I'm still focussing all my attention on VV, who appears to be bellowing out orders to her staff, praying that she doesn't turn around and catch me sneaking into my shift. I'm surely only one step away now and feel the victory surge inside of me. I feel my mouth opening slightly to celebrate the fact that I haven't been spotted, when I bump into something incredibly hard, which frightens the life out of me because there isn't supposed to be anything in the way of me and victory.

I try to move out of the way of this hard thing I've bumped into, but my focus is all gone and I end up tripping over something, which takes me even more by surprise. I realise as I trip that I will need both of my hands to save hurting my face, and so I throw the jug of water and close my eyes, pushing my hands out in front of me to stop myself from landing face first on the floor.

I brace myself for the impact and wince when I hear the smash of the jug of water on the floor a few seconds after I land there too.

Damn it!

So much for being stealthy and agile.

I want to keep my eyes closed but I know that I've just created a scene, and the one thing VV hates more than she hates her staff in general, is staff that create a scene in her fancy, overpriced, pretentious restaurant. So I know I need to react quickly to minimise the damage. Opening my eyes, I decide I need to find out what I bumped into, because I wasn't aware that VV had redesigned the restaurant overnight, and I hoped I hadn't broken anything, other than the jug of water I threw, of course.

Scrunching my eyes up in concentration, I glance over my shoulder and am met with something black. Raising my eyes up this new black thing we have in the restaurant, I ponder what it is. I begin to frown as my eyes move further up this structure, because it lands on a belt, and I realise that I'm actually staring at a person. My eyes move further up this person and take in the blue shirt they have on, which is splattered with water. I bite down on my lip again, because as much as I want to believe that the shirt is designed to be worn like that, I clearly know it's not, and that means they're wet because of me.

Looks like I'll be searching the trash for a nice bit of cardboard tonight then...

I start to panic, because I don't want to lose my studio. I quite like it, and I really don't want to sleep on cardboard. Realising I quickly need to right this very wrong situation, I allow my eyes to wander further up this person, hoping that I'll be met with a nice, compassionate face who knows that what just happened was entirely an accident and that we should just laugh it off.

However, I actually hear myself suck in a sharp breath when my gaze finally does land on his face. God, he's absolutely stunning. His skin is flawless, with a light dusting of stubble on his cheeks, and he has lips which are screaming to be kissed. My eyes roam further around his face and land on his own eyes, which are blue like the ocean, eyes that I'd certainly be happy to drown in.

I realise that I'm staring and shake myself out of this daze I seem to be trapped in. I physically have to shake my head from side to side to rid myself of the fog that it currently clouding my brain, and when I finally rest my sight on him again, I realise that he is not looking at me in a nice, compassionate way at all.

He looks absolutely furious.

His eyes are scowling at me, actually scowling at me, as if he wishes me dead. His lips are pressed into a hard, irritated line, and I feel myself cowering away from him.

One thought flashes through my head in that instant... and its damage control. I really need to get this situation under my control otherwise I absolutely will not have a job at the end of this shift. I crawl over to him and grab the ridiculously expensive tea towel which is tucked into the belt of my apron once I am situated at his feet.

Rising up onto my knees, I reach up and dab at his wet shirt, which is a mistake because now I can feel the hard lines of muscle beneath his wet shirt, and all I can think about is ripping it off him and licking the water I spilt down him off his body.

I feel him stiffen as soon as I begin to wipe his extremely toned stomach, and so I meekly peek up from my position, wondering what it is that I'm doing wrong. I'm met with an incredibly harsh stare and freeze on the spot. It's probably what he wanted to achieve, given the iciness of his gaze.

I'm not sure how much time passes, but eventually I hear him sigh in complete exasperation.

"For goodness sake woman, get off your knees," he orders.

I'm suddenly jolted from my frozen state and scramble to my feet, only I trip over the straps of my apron which have decided at this very helpful time to come undone. I can feel myself falling again, only this time I have something to hold onto to stop myself from falling to the ground. I debate as to whether I should or shouldn't do it, but decide that I don't really want to hit the floor again, so I just decide to do it.

I shouldn't have done it.

I realise this fact the instant my hands wrap around his ass and my mouth is pressed against his crotch.

Once again, I freeze. I have no idea why I freeze, because this is clearly the most humiliating thing that's ever happened to me, and if I had any sense I would just run, run as far away as I can from this ridiculous situation. But instead I just stay there, with my hands wrapped around his ass and my face right up in his crotch.

I feel my whole body begin to warm up, and I know that it's only because my body hates me and wants to show the entire world how embarrassed I truly am at being caught in this ludicrous pose.

"What on Earth is going on here?"

I hear VV's voice get louder as she moves towards the scene of this utterly incredulous situation, and I want the ground to open up and swallow me whole. But the ground doesn't open up and swallow me whole, no matter how much I will it to. Her footsteps stop and I realise that must mean that she's beside me. I'm done for. "Oh fuck," I mutter.

I realise as I mutter this that I am still stuck in what clearly is a very compromising position with this stranger. Gingerly, I extract my hands from his ass, and then push myself away from his crotch. I stare at the ground, utterly mortified.

"I'm so very sorry, Sir," I hear VV say to the man I have just assaulted, and then she cleverly moves him back towards the tables. This allows me to rise from the floor, and I race back out to the staff room with my head in my hands.

I slump onto the wooden bench and rock myself back and forth continuously, thinking about how cold I'm going to be with nothing but a cardboard box to keep me company. I briefly wonder how I'll receive my mail... but then realise that I probably won't need to receive mail if I have no place to live and no bills to pay. There is the Visa credit card bill, but it wouldn't be disastrous if that never found its way to me ever again... the cardboard box was starting to have some positives, at least.

The door to the staff room slams open and I don't need to look up to know that VV has arrived.

"Do you have any idea who that is?" she screams.

I glance up at her with a confused expression on my face. Am I supposed to know who that man is?

She stares at me for a good minute, and then realises that evidently I do not know who that man is at all. She sighs and places her hands on her hips, looking as stern as ever.

"Well, Haley, you're going to have to get your ass out there right now and ensure that he leaves here with memories of an excellent restaurant, with excellent service, not memories of being assaulted by you in front of the entire place. You will give him the utmost of attentive service, cater to his every whim. And if he leaves here unsatisfied, you will no longer be an employee of this establishment. Do I make myself clear?"

I nod my head slowly, wondering why she's making me do this. Surely it would be better for another waitress to serve him after what I have done. I come to the conclusion that she really is Satan's spawn. I'd been debating with the idea ever since I started here two months ago, but this stunt of hers just proves it. She wants me to drown in my humiliation.

I take a deep, calming breath and begin to try to move past her. She grabs hold of my arm and tugs me back, stopping me from going any further.

"He's a very important customer, Haley. His table will be your sole focus for the evening. Do not mess this up."

With those last words of warning in my ear, she releases her grip and walks out of the room, leaving me to follow behind her.

I re-enter the restaurant and take a furtive glance around the room, trying to locate the man I just assaulted. I spot him immediately, because it seems that my eyes seek him out automatically. I take a moment to appreciate the beauty that is his face and sigh wistfully.

I feel a pair of eyes burning holes in my skin and turn to see VV staring at me menacingly. I quickly grab my pad and pen and walk over to the table where he is sitting, feeling my cheeks grow redder with each footstep I take towards him.

There are a number of men who are talking merrily at the table. I'm not quite sure what it is they are discussing because the restaurant is very loud, but all talk abruptly stops when I finally reach the table. I also have no idea how many people there are at the table because I can't bring myself to look at any one of them, least of all the man I have assaulted.

I take a deep breath and lift my head, staring at the wall just above one of the table's occupant's head, doing that childish thing where I hope that if I can't see them, then they can't see me. "Can I take your drink order?" I ask as politely as I can.

"We'll take two bottles of the Les Demoiselles," someone says in a perfect accent, and I immediately know that it's the man I have assaulted speaking, because apparently I have memorised the sound of his voice. Oh God, does he have to sound so sexy when he speaks in a French accent? He's making me blush, and I can feel my knees going weak, which is ridiculous because all he has done is order a bottle of wine. I need to seriously get a grip.

I scribble down the order and the quickly retreat to the bar, handing the order over to Chris, who sadly for me is manning the bar tonight. I still wish that the ground would open up and swallow me whole, because I really don't want to have to go back to the table, but it's still not cooperating with me, unfortunately.

"Way to say hello to the VIP, Haley," Chris smirks at me.

I shoot him my most murderous look, which wipes the smirk right off his face. And it should, too; I have a very threatening glare. "Just give me the damn bottles of wine, douche," I snap at him. I'm just not in the mood for his stupid banter tonight.

Once I have the bottles of wine in my hands, I meander my way back to the table. I do my best to remain professional and inconspicuous as I pour some wine into one of the gentlemen's glass for him to taste. He nods his head at me and I smile, before pouring the wine into each of the glasses. I really do try to avoid looking at the man who's crotch I have familiarised myself with, but my traitorous eyes can't seem to stop themselves from looking at him when I begin to pour the wine into his glass.

I briefly wonder why this man is so important to the restaurant, and try to place his face. We do get the odd famous person coming in, but I just don't recognise who he is at all. My eyes roam over his shirt, which is still wet I notice, and he seems very authoritarian and powerful. I also observe that there are no women at this table, they're all men. My concentrated efforts are useless though, and I'm no more educated as to who he is than when my hands were on his ass. I can feel myself become mesmerised with his eyes, and he's staring back at me with a curious expression on his face, as if he's the one trying to work me out.

I watch as he glances down briefly and then returns his gaze to mine, but instead of seeming curious, he's now looking at me with fury. I can't even begin to imagine what it is that I have done to upset him now, but that becomes obvious when I glance down at the table to find that the wine I was pouring into his glass is now overflowing onto the table, and is completely soaking his mobile phone.

"Jesus, watch my phone!" he barks and then reaches out his hand to snatch it out of the way.

"Oh God, I'm sorry!" I mumble, and once again feel my face flush scarlet. Why the hell is it that I can't seem to do anything right around this man? I quickly set the bottle of wine down on the table and begin to mop up the excess wine which I have spilt. I can see him wiping his phone on his napkin out of the corner of my eye, and he brings it up to his face so that he can examine it closely.

"Great. You broke it."

He throws his phone down onto the table and sighs heavily, folding his arms across his chest in what can only be described as a childish fashion.

I ignore him and continue to mop up the mess.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asks irritably.

I'm the one who sighs heavily this time, and I straighten myself up before placing one of my hands on my hip. I regard him carefully, not caring in this moment that he's a VIP. What did he expect me to do about it? It was an accident, and quite frankly he shouldn't look so God damned handsome. "You do know that it's considered rude to use your cell phone in a restaurant, right?"

His gaze snaps up from where he has been staring moodily at his phone and meets mine, his eyebrow rising slowly. He looks at me curiously again, and I wonder what has him so fascinated. I hear a faint gasp from one of the other occupants at the table and I realise that it might be because I said something untoward back to him. I reset my stance, because if he thinks I'm going to accept responsibility for this, then he is clearly mistaken. I've already been humiliated enough tonight, without adding breaking a cell phone to the list too. Somehow I don't think VV will appreciate this new bit of information at all, and I might be chucked out of here before my shift has even ended.

"Is that so?" he asks, as if he's pondering what I said very carefully.

"Yes," I respond defiantly. "If you had any manners, you'd have kept your cell in your pocket. Then it wouldn't have been on the table and wouldn't now be broken."

His mouth stretches into a lazy smirk, and he shakes his head at me. It seems I amuse him. Well, I'm glad one of us is having a good time, because I feel like I'm slowly dying inside.

I decide I need to brush this faux pas underneath the carpet; otherwise I will lose my job. I therefore decide to continue as if nothing had happened. "Are you ready to order, or do you need more time?" I ask the rest of the table, choosing to ignore the strangely infuriating man on the end.

They are ready to order, thankfully, so I write down their choices, this time making sure that I don't look at the man on the end, because I might accidentally stab him with my pen or something equally horrific, even though I can feel his penetrating gaze on me.

I walk away from their table, and can feel that his gaze is still on me as I'm heading towards the kitchen, or at least I think I can. Because I'm far too curious for my own good, I decide to check whether I'm right or not.

Glancing over my shoulder, I move my eyes over to his table and nearly perform a fist pump when I see that he is indeed staring at me. He still has that smirk on his face and I furrow my brow, because although I don't want to admit it, it really does suit him. In fact, I'm pretty sure that everything suits him. He's that kind of person.

His eyes lock with mine again, and once more, I'm hypnotized.

And then I walk right into a wall.

Damn him and his gorgeous eyes.

I see him shake his head at me once again before he picks up his wine glass and returns his gaze back to the table.

I flush the shade of a very ripe tomato and can feel a bump forming on the side of my head.

I manage to get through the appetisers and main course without much mishap, thankfully. I realise that I shouldn't have been so snarky with Mr Sexy, as I've decided to call him, because that wasn't exactly beneficial to giving him the best service possible, as per VV's orders. So I try to rectify that, by being the best waitress I can be.

They are currently mulling over the dessert menus, and I'm watching the clock, waiting until I've given them four minutes exactly to decide what they want, if anything. Once the clock reads quarter to ten, I walk back over to the table, still determined to be an excellent waitress. I even chance it and smile at Mr Sexy, but have to quickly look away again when I feel my knees begin to shake. "Have you chosen yet?"

I write down their orders, and then wait for Mr Sexy to place his order.

He smirks at me. "How's the head?"

I blush yet again, and I decide to ignore his comment. I literally have to bite my tongue though, because another snarky response is just itching to force its way out of my mouth. "Do you want to order something?" I ask as sweetly as I can muster, despite the desire I have to give him a bump on the head for bringing up my clumsiness.

"I'll take an espresso."

I write down the order, wondering why he hasn't ordered a dessert. Everyone else at the table has, and even though this restaurant is pretentious as hell, the desserts really are to die for. This time when I walk away, I don't glance over my shoulder, even though once again I'm sure I can feel his eyes on me.

I slap the order for the espresso down on the bar and turn my back, so that Chris knows I simply want the drink, not one of his unhelpful, silly comments. He takes the hint and gets to work preparing Mr Sexy's espresso.

I hear him place the beverage next to me on the bar. I grab it quickly and head back over to the table. I'm still trying to work out why this man is a VIP, but once again I'm coming up short.

I place the espresso down in front of him and he glances away from the conversation he's having with the men at his table to smile his thanks. It's different from the smirk I've seen before on his face. It's welcoming and makes him look even more gorgeous, if that's at all possible. I can't help but smile back at him.

I feel rather giddy after the smiling session I've just shared with Mr Sexy. It seems that my previous mishaps may have been forgiven, and that means that I get to keep my job, because VV will be happy with the way I've redeemed myself with the VIP. Which means no cardboard boxes for me, tonight at least.

Grabbing the warm sticky chocolate fudge cake, which smells so good I'm almost tempted to eat it myself, I make my way back over to the table. It's the last dessert I need to deliver and I'm so impressed that I've not made any more mistakes, other than the three previous ones, I get rather excited.

My excitement is short-lived, evidently, because the next thing I know I'm walking straight into Mr Sexy, and the warm sticky chocolate fudge cake is now sticking to his very expensive looking shirt, and instead of the welcoming smile he had on his face, I'm met with the unhappy scowl again when I gather up the courage to look up at him.

I just want to cry, because everything had been going so well. Tears prick in my eyes and a shuddering sob comes out of my throat. I become incredibly embarrassed and this time, I do the right thing and run.

I run back towards the staff room, but I can't be bothered to go all the way back there, so I stop and lean against the wall. I close my eyes and bring my hands up to wipe the water from underneath my eyes, forcing myself to gain my composure. I'm just going to have to deal with the cardboard box, even though I'm now starting to wonder where I would wash, how I would cook food and how I could ever be comfortable sleeping on the ground.

I know I'm going to have to apologise profusely to the man I have not only accidentally assaulted, but also broken his phone by spilling wine over it and additionally splattered with warm sticky chocolate fudge cake. VV will absolutely make sure that I do that before I gather my things and walk out of here for the very last time.

I decide to pre-empt her command and take a deep breath before walking back out into the hustle and bustle of the restaurant. I cast my eyes over to the counter, where VV is looking busy. She doesn't seem to have noticed that I covered her VIP in chocolate cake, because if she had noticed, I know she'd be killing me right about now.

I glance back over to the table and find that Mr Sexy is sitting back in his seat, with a big stain on the front of his shirt. I feel my stomach sink. Not only did I break his phone but the shirt is going to have to be chucked away too. I couldn't even think of an excuse as to how the shirt problem was his fault, not mine. I should have been looking at where I was going; not getting excited that the rest of the evening had gone without a hitch.

I drag my feet as I walk over to the table, keeping my eyes trained on the floor because I don't want Mr Sexy to see the shame on my face. I halt to a stop when I reach the table.

The conversation dulls to silence and I know they are all waiting for me to speak. "I'm terribly sorry, Sir," I say, wringing my hands together and glancing up at him from underneath my eyelashes.

I can see that his eyebrow is raised. He's expecting more than just a sorry then. I sigh. And then I become desperate.

"It's just that my boss said you were a VIP guest, and I don't know who you are, and I certainly didn't know who you were when my face was up against your... well... I really didn't mean to ruin your phone, or your shirt, and if she finds out I've done all this she's going to sack me," I say in a rush, aware of the word vomit which is spewing out of my mouth. I sigh again in resignation, before turning to plead with him. "I don't want to live in a cardboard box, so if there's anything I can do to make this up to you, then please let me at least try."

His smirk is back. Does he think me living in a cardboard box is funny? I'm extremely unimpressed with his uncharitable demeanour, and want to tell him so, but I bite my tongue. He's not said that I can't try to make it up to him yet. If he says no, then I'll tell him exactly what I think of him.

"You don't know who I am?" he asks, as if it's incredulous for anyone not to know who he is.

"Er... no," I respond.

"Interesting," he says and folds his arms across his chest.

I can see his shirt straining against the muscles of his arms, and strangely I want to touch them. But I don't, I just wring my hands together tighter, forcing them to behave.

"Well, I can see why your boss would sack you if I wasn't impressed with the restaurant," he says, amusement clear in his voice. I glance over at his eyes again and they're practically dancing with mirth, and I look away again bitterly because this really isn't a funny situation. "You see, I'm a restaurant critic."

Oh fuck. Oh shit. I can now see why VV was so adamant that he has only excellent memories of this restaurant now, and why she made such a big deal over me 'catering to his every need' and whatever the hell else she said to me in the staff room. Everyone in this industry knows that one bad review can practically shut you down. I turn my head towards him and plead with him silently. I ignore the smiles coming from the other diners at his table. Clearly they are not on my side. Clearly they want this restaurant to close down, and for me to lose my job. Mr Sexy obviously doesn't keep very nice company.

"There is one thing you can do," he say slowly, as if he's formulating a plan inside his head right this very instant.

Suddenly visions of me doing all kinds of unsavoury things flow through my mind. But I guess I have to do whatever it is he wants me to do. I simply cannot afford to lose my job, and nor can I afford to have VV on the warpath, with me as her only target.

"Of course," I respond as eagerly but cautiously as I can.

He smirks at me and leans back in his chair, as if he is completely relaxed, the total opposite to how I feel. He should look ridiculous with a giant chocolate stain on his shirt, but he looks powerful and commanding. I hold my breath, waiting to hear my fate.

I just pray that it's nothing to do with spiders, or snakes. I could just about deal with whatever he wants to throw at me, but spiders and snakes I cannot do. I'd prefer to sleep in my cardboard box, than come face to face with either of those species.

"Come to dinner with me, tomorrow night."

**AN –I'm not aniticipating the chapters on this story to be as long as those of NSN, but its very easy for me to get carried away so who knows...!**

**If you have any questions, let me know, and I'll do my best to answer them.  
**

**If you'd like a teaser for the next chapter, as with my other stories, then let me know and I'll get it out to you ASAP.**

**I'm hoping my writing muse is slowly making its way back to me. Therefore I hope I won't leave you waiting too long for updates on my other stories.**

**I am going to sit down at the weekend and make a start on NSN... so it really shouldn't be too long now. Once again I apologise for the wait.**


	2. Chapter 2

**AN – Thank you all so much for the lovely reviews you left for the last chapter.**

**As always a couple of words for those of you who left reviews who don't have accounts so I couldn't reply personally – **Sophiaaaa – **So glad you liked the start and hope you got the teaser okay! Hope you like the next chapter! **Lo – **I'm so pleased you are enjoying the story and hope you like the update! **Rachel – **Aw, I'm so pleased you found it funny and enjoyed reading the last chapter! I hope you enjoy this update! **Weens – **I'm so pleased you enjoyed the last chapter and like the characters! Hope you enjoy this one too! **Lous – **So glad you enjoyed the last chapter and hope you got the teaser okay? Hope you like this chapter!**

**Right, on to chapter two. Thanks go to Anniiyy and Kristen for helping me out with the chapter!**

**Enjoy! **

**Chapter Two**

I stare at this strange, intriguing, beautiful man for a good minute, not saying a word. I'm not nervous anymore, because I notice that I've stopped wringing my hands together. However, what I am feeling is incredibly confused.

This man wants me to go to dinner with him?

I can feel my mouth wanting to drop open, but I fight against it and luckily for me, it stays closed. I'm sure I already look stupid enough, just standing there gawking at him.

I don't think I've heard him right. I decide I should stop staring, so I move my eyes away from him and gaze confusedly down at the very interesting floor while I try to process what he's just said. Seriously, I think I must be trapped in some parallel universe because this man should not be interested in someone like me.

I cast my eyes extremely cautiously over to him again and notice that he still has that stupid but oh so sexy smirk spread right across his gorgeously perfect face.

And I frown.

I go through a checklist in my head, running through all of the reasons as to why this man should not be asking me out to dinner with him.

I am a klutz.

I have proved this point no less than four times this evening alone, each time in front of said gorgeous man. I have tripped over his feet, tripped over my apron straps and ended up assaulting his crotch. I have spilt wine all over his cell phone and broken it. I have walked into a damn wall. And then to top it all off, I walked into him with a plate of warm sticky chocolate cake and ruined his very expensive looking shirt.

I actually think that I've listed more than four things there that prove I am a klutz… which means I probably take the very impressive title of Super Klutz. Lucky me. Before I depress myself over my inability to move like a normal human being, I move on to reason number two.

I am a waitress.

I, Haley James, work in this ostentatious restaurant, which charges unbelievable prices for not very much food but pays its staff extremely little. Basically, I'm poor. I actually think I may even live below the poverty line, but I don't want to think about that right now, because if I do, that thought, combined with my inability to move properly, might sink me into such a deep depression I may need to be sectioned.

It is clear, from the look of this man's expensive clothing and pristine looks, that he is from a completely different world to the one I currently live in. I actually think his shirt may cost more than the entire range of clothes I have in my wardrobe. But again, thinking about the fact that I have to shop for clothes in hypermarkets instead of normal stores may depress me even further, so I move on to yet another reason.

He is gorgeous.

Now, I don't exactly think I'm ugly, but I am a firm believer in the hierarchy of looks. Everyone has a number, right? Well, I move my gaze over his face and realise that without even looking at anything other than his eyes, I know this man is a ten. As in ten out of ten. He is perfect. I'd say I'm about a six or a seven. If you're a six or a seven, you don't get to date a ten. I don't moan about it, I just know that this is the way the world works. Yes it's shallow and probably shouldn't be that way, but in my experience, it is, and I just deal with it.

So, those are my reasons as to why this man should not be asking me out to dinner. I'm a klutz (read Super Klutz), I'm a waitress (read poor) and he is gorgeous (read out of my league).

I decide that I may be being a little harsh on myself. I want to find something to criticize about him, because it's not really fair that I put him up on this pedestal of perfection.

I squint my eyes at him, trying to spot if there's any imperfection on him. My eyes roam intently around his face, and I see that eyebrow of his rise up in question, but I ignore the stupid eyebrow, because even that is perfect.

Damn it! There is absolutely nothing that isn't perfect about his face. I move my gaze down to his shirt, which of course isn't perfect because I've ruined it with the huge chocolate stain, so I can't even really use that against him because it's my fault it's not perfect.

The rest of his body is blocked by the table, so I can't really see anymore. But if the top half of him is perfect, it's highly likely that the bottom half is too.

I've also already had my mouth pressed up against his crotch and, from what I managed to get a feel of, I think it's fair to say he's pretty well endowed. In fact, I wouldn't mind setting up residence down there.

Before I lose myself completely in daydreams about a cock I've felt but not seen, I move my thoughts onto something else.

Only there isn't anything else.

I frown in indignation, not ready to concede defeat so easily.

There has to be something about him which isn't perfect…

And then, I have a light bulb moment.

He is a restaurant critic!

Who wants to go out to dinner with a restaurant critic? Surely they'd be constantly criticizing every last bit of whatever restaurant they chose to take you to. I smile in victory, and also because I think of that 'Friends' episode when Phoebe goes out with that Health Inspector guy and inevitably ends up getting really pissed off with him. I actually enjoy eating out, once in a blue moon when I can afford it, and wouldn't want my rare experience to be tainted by a man moaning about service, or the taste and texture of food, or the balance of the ambience and all that stuff I don't really care about. And let's face it, I don't think he'd be impressed with my favourite and desired choice for a date, Tony's Pizza Place, which is just round the corner from my studio.

So there, Mr Perfect, you aren't so perfect after all.

Except that he is.

Because I now notice that he's smiling back at me.

Damn him and his sexiness.

So, after all that, I'm back to square one.

I nearly scoff at myself because I'm acting like it's been a chore, staring at him for however long I've been staring at him. It's certainly not a chore gazing into those endless blue eyes.

But I still don't think I have heard him right. Really I should ask him to clarify what he has just said. However, I'm well aware of the fact that I am currently standing at a table with a number of suited and booted men, who must at least be acquaintances, if not friends, of this infuriating man, and I'm far too embarrassed to ask him to repeat himself, just in case I really did hear him wrong.

"I'll assume your silence is agreement to my request for dinner," he states.

And then my mouth really does drop open.

I try desperately to wrap my head around what has just happened. He's just asked me out and then hasn't even allowed me to respond, just arrogantly presuming that I've said yes, when I really haven't. I move my hand to my hip in complete annoyance at his brazen attitude and wonder who the hell this man thinks he is.

I manage to close my mouth and give this man my best bitch scowl, which I've been told is very scary.

Only it doesn't seem to work on him.

His eyes light up with amusement as they wander over my now defensive form, and the smirk plays at the corners of his mouth once more. I'm silently daring him to smirk at me again so I can react to it, but he must hear my silent thoughts because he manages to contain the smirk, so thankfully I don't need to slap the pretty face. Eventually, his eyes land on my face, and he folds his arms over his chest, the bulging muscles of his arms straining against the fabric of his shirt.

My fingers itch to touch those powerful, huge arms of his.

"Or not?" he questions playfully.

I shake my head in complete exasperation at this cocky man, who, I now decide, has a chocolate stain on his shirt because he should have been looking where he was going, not because it was my fault.

"Yes-" I start, but I'm immediately interrupted by him.

"Excellent!" the man says in a delighted tone, and then turns his attention back to the table.

I'm actually flabbergasted. And once again, my mouth drops open. I figure I should close it before I start collecting a vast number of flies, but I literally cannot believe the incredulity of this man. I feel like I have to say no to his dinner invitation now, because I won't allow his attitude to wash with me. He's far too smug for his own good. And of course, I was going to say no to him anyway… yes, I absolutely was going to say no.

"Excuse me!" I huff and then wait for him to turn his attention back to me. I muster all the anger I can inside of me, ready to unleash the whole load on him. He needs to understand that you can't go through life expecting everything to happen just as you wish it to, and I'm going to be incredibly happy to be probably the first person ever to show him that fact.

Oh God, those eyes really are going to be the death of me.

And suddenly I feel the fury I had gathered begin to fade away.

He raises that eyebrow of his again, as if he's wondering why I'm still here and haven't fluttered off to do whatever the hell it is that waitresses do when they aren't taking orders or delivering items to the table.

I take a deep breath, because the raised eyebrow, although it looks great on him, is starting to really piss me off.

"I never said yes," I respond, choosing to raise my own eyebrow back at him, just to see how he likes it.

He shakes his head at me humorously and that eyebrow of his lowers itself down to its normal position.

"Yes, you did," he states and turns his body to the right a little, so that he's properly facing me.

"I did not," I reply indignantly.

He laughs. I think it's the first time I've heard him laugh all evening. Of course, his laugh sounds ridiculously sexy, and it kind of makes me want to strip down to my underwear and crawl into that very inviting lap of his.

However, I fight the temptation to begin undressing and choose to stare at him again instead.

"You didn't let me finish what I was about to say," I state.

"But you said 'yes'. There wasn't anything else I needed to hear," he responds.

I sigh and shake my head at him in annoyance. "I said 'yes' in response to your 'or not' comment, not to your invitation to dinner."

"I see," he says, and bizarrely he still has that smirk on his face. I briefly wonder what I need to do or say to make him stop smirking, but then realise that I do rather like the smirk anyway.

I nod my head at him, happy that we've cleared that one up. And then I feel stupid because he is still smirking and I'm just standing here, unsure of what it is that I need to be doing. "Well, I'm glad we sorted that out," I say, and then I begin to reach forward to collect some of the empty glasses which are sitting on the table, only so that I look like I actually have something I need to be doing.

"Do you like cardboard?" he asks as he unfolds his arms and rests his hands on the table.

I stop reaching for the glass, blinking rapidly because I can feel my brain conjuring up thoughts of what I want those fingers to be doing to me. I shake my head quickly, dispelling those thoughts from my head and glance up at him with a curious expression plastered all over my face. "I'm sorry?" I enquire, wondering why he is asking me such a silly question. Who on this planet has a 'like' of cardboard? I mean, it's just cardboard, there's nothing special about it at all. What a strange question to ask.

"Cardboard. Do you like it?" he questions me again.

My eyebrows knit together. I'm really confused as to the bizarre path our conversation has taken. I decide to humour him, because it's clear that he's a little bit crazy. "Erm… no, I don't particularly like cardboard," I say. My response sounds more like a question, as if I'm asking him whether that was the right answer to his enquiry or not. I don't like not feeling sure of myself and mentally curse him for making me feel stupid.

"That's a shame then, isn't it?" he says with a forced sigh, and he has a serious expression on his face. It's almost, but not quite, like he is feeling sorry for me.

Once again, I decide to humour him. "And why is that?"

"Well, if the severe case of mumble rubbish which came out of your mouth when you were asking me to not tell you boss about your misdemeanours from before is true, you're going to have to acquaint yourself with a cardboard box pretty soon, aren't you?"

Mumble rubbish?

I'm incredibly outraged and actually slightly disgusted that he would have the audacity to suggest that something I said was just 'mumble rubbish'. I decide that this man is far too high on his horse and desperately needs taking down a peg or two.

When did I ever say anything which could be labelled as 'mumble rubbish'?

And then I remember.

Oh, God. I'd completely forgotten about the whole cardboard box scenario, because I have evidently been blinded by this man's incredible good looks and the fact that he is far too cocky for his own good. My need to wrap my head around the curveball he threw my way has meant that all my attention has been focussed on that instead of making sure that I didn't get fired. The whole evening comes rushing back to the forefront of my brain, and once again I nearly die of humiliation.

His smirk grows wider. "I have to say I'm mildly offended that you'd choose a cardboard box over a simple dinner with me."

I scowl at him again, because that's just how I roll. However, I stop scowling when I realise that he is actually offering me a chance to change my mind. He has that questioning, smug look on his face, as if he's expecting me to simply throw my hands up in the air and profess my love for him. And of course say yes to his dinner invitation.

But I don't throw my hands up in the air, because I'd probably slap him around the face with my tea towel or something else equally as humiliating. And then he'd have one more thing to use against me in his quest for my company at dinner tomorrow night.

Instead, I stumble over my response. I have to quickly weigh up my options, which suck either way I look at this situation.

Option one. I lose my job, because he will tell VV how awful I have been and will then give the restaurant the most scathing review known to man. I will have to move out of my apartment and live in a cardboard box. I'm not very streetwise, so I'll probably have my cardboard box stolen from me by another homeless person, and then I really will have nothing.

Option two. I say yes and have dinner with this arrogant, persistent, cocky but beautiful man. I don't want to say yes to dinner, because although this does look like the more favourable option, I feel like right now, I'm making a point for all womankind. We will not be badgered into having dinner when we haven't even agreed to it. Men like him cannot just walk around thinking that they are God's gift.

And besides, he's clearly immoral, because what he is doing now is blackmailing me.

And that's just not a very nice thing to do.

I'm still debating with myself. Cardboard or dinner. Dinner or cardboard…

"Good evening again, Sir. I trust that everything has been to your satisfaction this evening, other than the incident earlier on, of course?"

I jump as I hear VV address the man and notice that she is now standing right next to me. I refocus my gaze on the man who is looking at me pointedly. I can see that my time is up and I know that this is it. It's decision time. But I haven't made up my fricking mind yet.

Dinner or cardboard.

Cardboard or dinner.

He raises that damn eyebrow of his, and I want to force it back down with my finger. I glance over at VV who looks like she might have a stroke at any given moment if the man doesn't confirm that everything has been to his satisfaction, other than the incident earlier on, of course, in the next five seconds. She glares at me and I feel the blood begin to drain from my body.

I start to feel dizzy, because she is going to kill me, I'm sure of it. I already feel half-dead and that's just from a look she has given me. I feel the pain she has planned for me in her eyes and know I really don't want that bestowed on me.

So, despite my better judgement, or lack of judgement really, because I couldn't come to a decision by myself, I nod my head in resignation.

I think his smile is bright enough to light the whole of America during a mass black out.

"Everything has been perfect. The service from this young lady in particular has been remarkable and most certainly memorable," he says with enthusiasm.

I scowl at him. I have to, because he is blatantly teasing me.

I don't like being teased.

But then I realise that VV is looking at me with surprise and, dare I say it, happiness. So I quickly remove the scowl from my face and smile at her.

"Well, Haley here is one of our best," VV says and wraps her arm around me, pulling me into her shoulder for a semi-hug. She's clearly not comfortable with the contact because as soon as I touch her shoulder she practically throws me off her body, and I stumble a little as I try to stand upright and not fall onto the floor for the third time this evening.

"Well I can see why," he says, his eyes dancing with amusement because he clearly caught the fact that I nearly fell over.

"Is there anything else we can do for you?" VV asks sweetly.

He moves his gaze from me to her and smiles at her. "No, I think we're just about done here. The check would be much appreciated."

I want to mouth the word 'bastard' at him, because he looks smugger than I've ever seen him look all night. And I didn't think that was at all possible. But I don't have the guts to do it with VV standing right beside me.

"Of course, Haley will get that for you right away. Well, I'll leave you all in her capable hands. I'm so pleased that everything has been to your satisfaction," VV says with a beaming smile and then turns on her incredibly high heel and wanders back to the main counter in the middle of the restaurant.

I'm now really pissed off because I feel like I have been conned into having dinner with this man. So I turn on my heel, only I'm wearing flat shoes because I can't walk in heels for a second, let alone move on them for my entire seven hour shift. Actually, I can't walk in my flat shoes either, as tonight has showcased marvellously.

I make my way hastily over to the smaller counter and press the various buttons on the screen to get the bill for the table printed. I'm absolutely furious, but I figure the sooner I get him the check, the sooner he will be out of the restaurant.

Once the machine has printed the check out, I make my way back over to the table and resist the temptation to throw the flimsy piece of paper at him.

It wouldn't have done much damage.

In fact, I don't even look at him. I have to force myself not to, because my eyes want to take another look at the pretty, but I remain strong and leave him alone to pay the bill, while I go over to the bar and wait for them to leave the restaurant so I can clear their table.

It's a shame I can't clear my mind too, but I don't think the Men in Black mind zapper thing has actually been invented yet.

I actually cannot believe that I have to have dinner with him tomorrow. I'm furious at myself for getting into this stupid situation and even angrier at him for forcing me to accept his silly invitation.

I'm jolted out of my thoughts by a hand which appears in front of me, dropping a leather wallet which is bulging with dollar bills in front of me. Before I even have the chance to spin around, I watch as this hand flattens out against the marble bar and then feel something tickle my neck.

"Thank you for a very entertaining evening," he says, directly into my ear.

I actually shiver. I can't believe I do, because it gives away too much. But his voice and the feel of his breath on my skin makes my entire body tingle. I also find myself completely immobile, because as much as I want to turn around and tell him what a pig I think he is, even though he clearly is an extremely good looking pig, I can't actually move. I'm also acutely aware of how close he is standing behind me, and have to fight the temptation to lean backwards into his muscular frame.

Instead I just imagine how hard his muscular body would feel against my back. And then I start thinking about other hard bits of his anatomy.

I have to cling onto the bar because I suddenly feel faint.

"Someone will call you tomorrow to arrange our dinner date."

I don't even have a second to process what he's saying before the warmth that has been radiating from the close proximity of his body to mine is gone, leaving me feeling rather chilly.

I stay rooted in the spot for a good few minutes before I jolt myself out of my haze. I turn around eventually and realise that he's now left the restaurant, which is good because I can now continue the night without worrying about blinding him with alcohol or stabbing him with a knife.

I shake my head at the bizarre night I've just encountered and walk over to the table they have just vacated. I clear up the glasses and plates and take them into the kitchen to be washed. Then I wipe down the table.

All the while I'm humming to myself. I'm humming a really complicated tune because if I don't concentrate on that then I'll just think about him and find myself in a puddle on the floor.

And I think I've seen enough of the floor this evening.

VV comes over as I'm doing this, and I stiffen because I have no idea what she's going to say to me.

"Nice save, Haley. You can take the rest of the night off once you've finished setting the table."

I breathe a sigh of relief and quickly set the table. Once that is done, I rush back to the staffroom, untying my apron as I move, eager to get out of here as quickly as I can.

About thirty minutes later, I slam the door shut to my apartment. I flick the lights on, only it doesn't really help lighten my dark apartment, because I've still not got round to changing two of the light bulbs from the fitting, so only one is working. I throw my bag onto the bed before slumping down on the sofa.

I recall the night's events and wonder how I manage to get myself in these predicaments. It's utterly ridiculous and only seems to ever happen to me.

There really must be something wrong with me. I seem to attract all the weirdos.

After all, who the hell does what he just did?

I recall the way he forced me into accepting his dinner invitation, and then that thought gets dwarfed as I remember the way my body reacted when he was standing behind me. There's no doubting the fact that I was excited by his presence. There's also absolutely no doubting that I liked the way his voice sounded in my ear and the way his breath tickled the skin of my neck.

I recollect that way he said that someone would be calling me tomorrow.

Excitement I shouldn't be feeling courses its way through my veins. He really did want to have dinner with me.

I push those feelings aside because I shouldn't be feeling this way. I should be disgusted and disturbed by his behaviour. Especially if he has a habit of forcing young women into dating him. Why would he have to do that anyway? It's not like he's not attractive enough to get a date the normal way.

I begin to wonder whether he has something majorly wrong with him.

And then I conjure up all kinds of things. Disturbing things.

I can't go to dinner with this man. I just can't. I don't know him at all. What if he turns out to be a psycho killer? A stalker?

It would be highly unwise for me to go out with him. I come to this conclusion as I bite down on my lip and feel satisfied that I've arrived at this decision. It's definitely the right one.

I'm unsure why, as I fall into bed an hour later, my decision doesn't feel all that concrete.

I surely don't want to go to dinner with this man.

But then I remember his perfection.

Would it really be that bad to have to stare at that face for an evening?

Gosh, I really can't make up my mind.

It seems I have this problem a lot when I'm thinking of anything to do with this man.

I toss and turn all night, barely getting a wink of sleep. I throw the covers off my body at some ridiculous time in the morning and grab myself a drink of water in the hope that it will make me tired. It just makes me need the toilet.

Every time I close my eyes, I see those eyes or that smirk and it's driving me crazy.

I fall into a restless sleep sometime later, and when I wake up, I find that it's already twelve in the afternoon.

I grumble when the first thing I coherently think about is that man.

This is beginning to get very old, very quickly.

I stumble out of bed and make my way into the bathroom. Once I get into the shower, I suddenly remember that the infuriatingly perfect man is meant to be calling me today to arrange our dinner date this evening.

My stomach immediately flips and I have to take a good few deep breaths to calm myself down.

I really don't want to go to dinner with a complete stranger.

I know some kung fu from my Wii Fit console, but without the weird music and the people on the screen showing me what to do, I don't think I'll be able to defend myself all too well against him. He is rather tall and has very muscular arms…

I lose myself for a second as I remember those biceps of his. Then I curse myself for thinking of them in the first place, no matter how impressive they are.

Once I'm finished washing my hair and myself, I turn off the water and step out of my shower. The water had already started to run cold, but I'm more than used to taking cold showers. The water in my building is very unpredictable.

I then sit myself down on my sofa, wondering how I'm going to turn this man down without having him run right back to VV and revealing to her how rubbish a waitress I am, as well as have him write a damning review of the restaurant.

I look around my studio. I know it's not much, but it's my home. I don't want to have to move and live in a damn cardboard box. He's just going to have to accept my apologies and forget about me. I'm pretty easy to forget, I think. It shouldn't be too hard for him.

I stare at my ancient cell phone which is sat on my cheap coffee table. I feel like I'm waiting for it to jump up and bite me or something.

I scowl at my phone, because this really is torturous and pull my towel tighter around my body.

Then I suddenly realise that he doesn't even have my number. Hell, he doesn't even know my last name. There's no way he can call me to arrange this silly little dinner!

I grin, because it seems I have inadvertently beaten this cocky man, and then I jump up onto my sofa and proceed to jump up and down on it repeatedly.

I jump because I won't have to embarrass myself with my Wii Fit style kung fu.

I jump because I don't have to go out for dinner with this incredibly infuriating man.

I jump because I have won the battle of the sexes, proving that you can't just expect women to fall at your feet, even if you do look like you've just walked out of a GQ shoot.

I stop jumping when my cell phone rings.

In fact, I stand incredibly still and regard the device like it really is a wild animal.

I manage to successfully lower myself down onto the carpet without falling over. I take two very cautious steps towards my ringing phone and then lean over the table, seeing a private number flash on the screen.

It can't be…

But what if it is?

No, it absolutely is not. I just concluded that he can't contact me.

Because I'm so convinced of this fact, I pick up my phone and press the 'connect' button, which is so warn you can't even tell it was green once upon a time now. Then I hold the phone up to my ear, saying nothing.

"Hello, is this Haley James? This is Rachel calling from Mr Scott's office to arrange an appointment for dinner with you this evening."

And then, because I cannot believe he, or rather Rachel at his office, has called me, I actually throw my phone across my small studio apartment.

A thousand and one thoughts rush through my mind.

Only one is running through my head on a loop though.

How the hell did he get my number?

**AN – How did Nathan get her number I wonder?**

**Let me know what you thought of chapter two by dropping me a review.**

**If you'd like a teaser for the next chapter then just let me know in a review and I'll send you one as soon as I have it ready!**


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